


Please Bring It Back Home To Me

by yourpotato



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Reddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourpotato/pseuds/yourpotato
Summary: Richie doesn't know how to cope with losing Eddie.





	Please Bring It Back Home To Me

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any possible typos

It’s raining.

Richie looks down at the cigarette in his palm. He's contemplating whether or not he should light it.

Eddie wouldn’t want him to.

Eddie would yell at him about the dangers of smoking.

Eddie would get red in the face like he always used to.

His gaze shifts.

The pavement shines a bright yellow under the streetlights, the rain crashing down on it in heavy droplets. The faint sound of music coming from inside the bar melts into the loud downpour, composing a grand symphony of nostalgic pitter-patter.

“What’re you doing out here?”

Richie sighs. “Thinking.”

“About?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he meets Beverly’s inquisitive eyes. She’s clutching at her coat, pulling it tightly around her body.

Richie doesn’t respond. A familiar song starts pouring out of the speakers inside. A gentle piano ballad. He chuckles humorlessly.

“_Love of my life, you’ve hurt me_,” the man hums along to the song weakly. He imagines that Eddie would make a comment about his horrible singing voice, if he were here. “_You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me_.”

“Come inside, honey,” Bev says. Her hand reaches out for Richie’s shivering frame, grabbing at his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Eddie would’ve said the same, only louder.

He’d probably call him an asshole while he was at it.

God, he wishes he would.

“I’m fine.”

He fishes a red lighter out of his pocket. He places the cigarette between his lips and goes to light it, carefully shielding it from the rain. He takes a deep drag.

_“What the fuck are you doing, dickface?! Do you know how dangerous those things are?” Eddie shouts when he sees what Richie is holding in his hands. He tries to snatch it out of his grip. “Give me those!”_

_“Aw, you care about me, Eds? That’s so sweet,” Richie coos while shoving the shorter boy away. He proceeds to open the box and pulls out a cigarette. “D’you want one?” he asks as he shoves the tip into his mouth._

_“No! And I don’t care,” Eddie protests with a scowl and crosses his arms. “Just get the fuck away from me with that. I don’t want to inhale it.”_

_“Yeah, how ‘bout you inhale something else?” Richie suggests with an obnoxious hip thrust._

_“What the fuck does that even mean? That makes no sense, asshole. What’s wrong with you? That’s gross.”_

_Eddie is frowning. His cheeks are red and his skin is tan. He looks pretty like this, under the September sun. His hair is blowing in the gentle breeze, a perfect shade of brown. He's gotten freckles over the summer as well, just on his cheekbones and on his nose, under his caramel colored eyes._

_Richie’s chest hurts._

_He lights the cigarette._

  
“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since right now.”

Beverly sighs.

“What?”

“Come inside.”

“Leave me alone, Bev,” he pleads, finally turning to fully face her. He can’t see her properly through his wet glasses, but if he were to guess, he'd say that she’s frowning. “I don’t wanna go back inside. I don’t wanna sit at that fucking table with you guys and act like everything’s okay.”

_Love of my life, don’t leave me. You’ve taken my love, and now desert me._

“We all miss him, Rich,” she assures him. “I know how you feel.”

“You don’t know shit about how I feel,” he croaks. He can’t tell if he’s crying or not. His chest hurts. It's been doing that for a while. He reaches up and wipes at his glasses with his fingers. It doesn't do any good. “I loved him.”

“I loved him too, honey.”

“Not like I did," he blurts out.

Her frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

_Snow is falling on a cold January night, disappearing into the white dunes on the ground. _ _The small town of Derry has fallen into a deep slumber._

_Richie pulls his beanie further down over his ears, glancing over at Eddie. They’re trotting through the cold, their gloved hands brushing together with every step. His chest tightens as he studies Eddie's profile. He's got the cutest little nose._

_"The fuck are you looking at, Richie?"_

_Richie is quick to turn his gaze towards something else: the building they're approaching. The freshly fallen snow outside the public library lies completely untouched. His eyes follow a large snowflake as it falls from the sky and eventually disappears amongst the other crystals. He stops and considers his options for a moment._

_"What're you doing?" Eddie asks as the taller boy starts walking towards the field of white._

_Richie comes to a halt where the flat ground ends and the snow dunes begin. He turns to face Eddie, spreads his arms, closes his eyes and falls back into the snow. The surface beneath him is soft, like a cold duvet. He exhales._

_He can hear the thumping sound of Eddie's boots approaching. _ _"Are you just gonna lie there?"_

_"Yup."_

_"You'll get pneumonia."_

_"I'll take my chances," he smiles lazily, peaking out from one eye. He moves his arms to the side of his body, making room for Eddie. "Get down here."_

_He really expects Eddie to protest and maybe even leave him there to freeze to death, but, to his surprise, the boy joins him. He squats down and carefully sits himself on the ground, before falling on his back, right next to Richie. The two of them stay quiet for a while, staring_ _up at the sprinkle of stars above them. It's an unusual silence. _

_"Why are we doing this?" Eddie pipes up after a while._

_Richie turns his head to look at his friend. "Isn't it nice?"_

_"It's cold."_

_Eddie is looking at him now too. They're close. Richie can feel Eddie's warm breath on his face, a welcome comfort in the winter air._

_He looks pretty like this, as well. He's paler than this summer, and his freckles have faded. His eyes are still warm and beautiful, like hot chocolate. His lips are cherry red and glisten ever so slightly under the faint streetlights. They look soft and inviting, and before he knows it, Richie is leaning over to see what they feel like against his own. _

_His chest hurts. _

"I _loved_ him, Bev.”

"You-" She pauses. "Oh."

His cigarette is wet now. 

"_Oh_, Rich."

"He's the only person I've ever loved," he sniffles and tosses the cigarette on the ground. He watches it drown it in a grey puddle. "And now he's gone."

_Back, hurry back. Please bring it back home to me, because you don't know what it means to me._

"And I never got to fucking tell him." 

And then Beverly is hugging him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close. "I'm sure he knew, Richie," she whispers. Her voice is barely audible in the heavy downpour. "He knew."

Richie is cold. Richie is definitely going to get sick. Richie doesn't care.

_Love of my life. Love of my life. _

His chest hurts. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading x 
> 
> bill hader said gay rights
> 
> — the song is love of my life by queen


End file.
